I need to vent and Facebook isn’t the place…
Why?
This morning, early, as I walked across the kitchen floor I felt a stabbing pain in my foot. I immediately put my hand to my foot to find a small shard of glass and blood. The bin revealed a broken glass, obviously the remnants from that evening, I can only guess as he is still asleep ( and will be until 11am, unless disturbed!) it was J, the last one up last night.
A few things spring to mind as I play out the conversation in my head.
” J did you break a glass last night?”
Replies “Yes, I cleared it up”
“Did you check the floor thoroughly, vacuum, and wash the floor, as the glass can get everywhere?”
This will be the teenage clincher “No, as I didn’t realise I needed to, no one told me!”
So here I am, single mummy of three, tired, warn out but deciding a Blog is now what I need in my life.
Yesterday was an absolute bugger of a day, a truly 100% shit day.
Woke as usual, early, put on a wash, cleared the decks, ventured to Morrison’s to buy croissants for my darlings as they are on holiday, got ready for work, answered emails, made a quick smoothie before heading out the door with youngest.
Holidays are wonderful things but childcare provisions are required for the youngest. He would of course love to hang out all day with his two older brothers, sitting in dressing gowns playing FIFA and eating but whilst I can hold this off, I will.
So he is out-sourced to a lovely friend and their farm, to enjoy the great outdoors. I am glad I can still influence him and he enjoys the simple things in life and playing.
After drop-off, I head to the office.
Never, ever give your Solicitor your work email address as a preference! Sitting in my inbox is the “day ruiner” the missed weekend email. Last week I thought the signing of the Court order / Consent forms was nearly there, bar a few areas to agree on finite details but no my estranged husband has decided to throw a curveball. I actually find I can’t read the email properly, my blood is boiling and I am trying to take sharp intakes of breath and my work colleague is trying to say something to me. I mutter yes under my breath hoping she hasn’t noticed my sigh, my stillness, and the drained look on my face.
I excuse myself from the office, on an errand and try to compose myself. I do manage this but played various scenarios through in my mind. Wrecking his house ( but it’s my mothers!), slashing his tyres but the car is at his place of work, sending him a shitty text ( but he never replies), screaming. I do none of the above but manage to send an email to my solicitor and get on with my work.
I can honestly say, I felt like shit all day. I even forgot to have lunch, which is incredible. Ask anyone who knows me and they will agree! I thought I had all my emotions in check however the eczema across my eyes and forehead is possibly a little give-away. My stomach suffers too but I always think its something I ate. I constantly want to curl up and sleep but think its just tiredness but then listening to Snow Patrol: Chasing Cars on the Radio yesterday did it. I wept holding onto the worktop for support. The tears just shook me, why oh why is this so hard?
I am a mother of three boys, two currently studying for their GCSE’s.
All three boys are very sporty and this requires lifts, energy and time to ensure all their needs are met
I work, admittedly only part-time but I work. Or should I say I go to paid work too!
I cook, I bake, I clean, I garden, I keep fit and active, I coach swimming.
I enjoy socialising
I have the boys 85.3% of the time!
The boys stay with their father every other weekend. It’s not enough. In between he barely has contact, doesn’t know what they are up to, isn’t supportive of me ( well I guess that’s one of the reasons we are apart and divorcing!) he plays at being a parent. He can’t even commit to a holiday with the boys. He went away for two weeks over Christmas, unannounced until I forced him to tell the boys, he is away over Easter. He doesn’t think the boys need supervising during holidays, as they can look after themselves!
So here I am being a mummy, a daddy, a carer, a disciplinarian, an organiser, the support system and the counsellor and in the meantime he is trying to squeeze me for more.
I digress, this all started with a piece of glass in my foot………..